Sunday, May 30, 2010
Reconnecting with my old pals from team switchback, I rode with the gear in the back of the short bus enroute to the slide comp. Steph had lent me her pirate eye patch in order to test the theory that pirates used patches to train their eyes for varying degrees of light. The results were fairly trippy. Though there was some light coming through a small hole in the patch, the adjustment to the size of my pupil (spelling?) and subsequent optical rearrangement was substantial. It was as if someone had turned up the “brilliance” knob on my covered right eye. Left was the normal adjustment, fairly sunny so things started to look grey, but back to right, bam, full blast of colours. Amusing myself with these vision games, I watched all the powerfully beautiful landscape that makes up the sunshine coast, it came to me that I need a constantly streaming video camera attached to my head, so that everyone at home can see the amazing things that I get up to every day. The purpose of said camera would be to demonstrate that if one engages in the passion (in my case playing the banjo), sustenance will become an afterthought since you’ll be totally emerged in the sweet life. The slide comp was majestic, powerful innovation emerged since last year, impressive athleticism and style, full fun. The jam style was disfavorable in my opinion, harder to keep track of the riders and sharing the course made for some unwanted traffic, still a wicked show though. On the way back in an open ended uhall trailer, nick and I danced our feet on the rushing pavement below, a hand stand was attempted for the guy with a camera behind us. The brilliance of a covered eye was still shocking. More fire surfing and it it was time to ride to Madeira park with steph the montreal crew driving behind us. It was a good run, the small town was in full swing for the victoria day celebrations. Breakdancing for the local old time folk band was enjoyable for all. Chats with a local clam digger were great as well, he was quite interested in longboarding, I told him everything I knew about the sport. Up walked a fellow who had been playing drums that were suspended by springs from a wooden cube that encased it all. Called “bonggie” or something, I recalled he’d been profiled on the classic Canadian television show, On The Road Again. It reminded me of a chat with my mother about that episode, it turned out many of the shows subjects had the sub title “old people making things” and she asked me which of the segments I would remember, it was the drummer. He was in good shape, has patented the construction but hasn’t reproduced it. Wood working is his life of work, there was the possibility he’d sold the same carved bench twice. Rolling down the hi-way, a lake caught my eye, cutting down to the water two brown masses few by. With closer inspection a bald eagle was trailing a slow moving, huge, great blue heron. The heron squawked and changed direction, the eagle spun and followed suit. A second eagle joined the pursuit from above. As the Heron tried to make a move and fly right, the higher eagle swooped down, a great cry shot out, and a big brown bird plummeted sixty feet into the lake One eagle flew back to the next and the other to the fallen heron, splashing around where the bird dropped. Then with repetitive flaps every four seconds, slowly dragged the carcass to side of the lake it took about five minues. Then took it’s time tearing the flesh off the bones, the whole situation was fairly intense. Back at the park mayday festivals I watched the mechanical bull competition, a fellow named “gruff” who was quite handsome with his mustance, rode the contraption with both hands in the air. Little Quinn rode it afterwords. Pumping my legs back to the camp, the french crew picked me up and the rest of the evening was spent experiencing the lack of sleep. Eventually Steph and I crashed in her tent, this time sharing blankets and staying warmer.